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lost love poem

i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones
lady, your heart has turned to dust
my true love from her pillow rose
gone are the three, those sisters rare
lo! 'tis a gala night
eighty years have passed, and more
brother, i am fire
the ships are lying in the bay
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
one by one, like leaves from a tree
and breaketh bread no more

 



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